


Didn't I Warn You!

by Pastaaddict



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Disturbing use of a baguette, Gen, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Under the name Pastaaddict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 11:22:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14401107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pastaaddict/pseuds/Pastaaddict
Summary: He warned them. They didn't listen. They'll have to learn the hard way.





	Didn't I Warn You!

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer : I do not own Hetalia.

 

**_**Didn't I Warn You!** _ **

The red and blue blur that almost cannoned into England was spewing Celtic abuse in a steady stream as Scotland stormed past his younger brother, his face redder than his hair and the air turning electric blue with the foul language coming from the Caledonian nation.

"Scotland?" he called out to his older brother. "Are you all right?"

"Bastards!" Scotland swore. "Marbhaidh mi iad an ath thuras! Nì iad riamh Call Me caoraich humper a-rithist!" England watched Scotland slam his way out of the doors and the fact that Scotland was speaking in Gaelic was enough to tell England that the fuse on his older brother's temper had well and truly burnt out and he also knew enough Gaelic to know that those three _idiots_ had gone and done exactly what he told them not to. He looked toward the room his brother had left and he was almost afraid to view the carnage and he approached the door with caution, eyeing the red stuff oozing under the door and prayed it was not blood as he grasped the door handle and turned it, the door opening slowly with an ominous _creak!_

Spain was laid on the floor, groaning and stained red by the hundreds of tomatoes he was half buried with and surrounded by, the juice forming a puddle around him and that was what was leaking under the door. He groaned again and this time there were words.

"My tomatoes!" Spain sobbed. "My beautiful tomatoes!" England rolled his eyes and look toward one of the other stupid _pillocks_ in the room. France was also on the ground, his rear stuck in the air with his pants pulled down and a baguette shoved up his ... well, use your imagination!

"Oh, Mon Dieu!" he moaned and England smirked. It would be a while before France could sit down comfortably and he would never be able to look at a baguette the same way again.

"Scheiße!" came a Germanic voice from the ceiling and England looked up to see Prussia draped over one of the pipes running across the ceiling with Gilbird flying around his head, making him look like a knocked-out cartoon character. The rest of the room looked like a hurricane had hit it and England knew from experience the damage _Hurricane Scotland_ could inflict and that these three had brought it on themselves.

"You pack of wankers went and did it, didn't you?" he admonished. "Do any of you remember what I said would happen?" Groans all round.

"You said that Scotland would revisit his Celtic past," France's voice was slightly muffled due to his face still being pressed into the floor.

"And go all Dark Age on our asses," Prussia groaned from the ceiling.

"Inflicting tortures the likes of which we have never seen before or will again," Spain replied, slowly picking himself up from under the ruined tomatoes. "My beautiful tomatoes!"

"So what possessed you to do it any way?" England demanded.

"We wanted to see his reaction," Prussia replied and then screamed as he fell from the pipe. England snorted.

"Well, Congratulations!" England announced. "If your goal was to royally piss him off, you succeeded epically. I hope you learnt something from all this!" A chorus of more groaning answered him.

"And what did we learn?" England asked. "All together now!" And the Bad touch Trio did answer all together.

"Never to play the Stereotype Song to Scotland ever again!"

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Scottish Gaelic (I hope) Marbhaidh mi iad an ath thuras! (I'll kill them next time) Nì iad riamh Call Me caoraich humper a-rithist! (They'll never call me a sheep humper again). This is Google Translate, the only site that does Scottish Gaelic that I could find. I apologise if it's wrong.
> 
> Hundreds of tomatoes, a baguette, a Spaniard, a Frenchman and a Prussian were harmed in the writing of this story.


End file.
